


Let Your Kiss Confess...

by ThatwasJustaDream



Series: Thank you fics - 2014 Brag Book on the LJ 1_million_words comm [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: 1-million-words, First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Seduction, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony knows exactly what 'after the party' music to play -  to sway a mood and seduce a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Kiss Confess...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TigerLily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLily/gifts).



> Finally! I have owed Sharpie a Tony fic forever! Wasn't sure I had it in me, but hope you like. Also a thanks for the Brag Book contribution. Thank you to guineamania for the very helpful beta work in a flash! ;)
> 
> Set after the Avengers and before CAWS.

“Sinatra?” Bruce stopped picking up stray glasses, napkins and cups long enough to cock an ear, head tilting almost sideways in confusion.

The glissando run of piano notes coming from the tower’s entertainment system gave way to a familiar, warm and warbling voice.

"What the hell, Tony?"

Maybe Jarvis had taken over the sound system. Maybe Tony had fallen and hit his head somewhere in the night's festivities, and was bravely hiding a severe, personality-altering brain injury.

"There's a time for Frank _Zappa_...." Tony crossed the living room, pulling his bow tie loose, tossing it on the nearest cushion of the sectional.  “And a time for _Frank_.  I'm a complex man, Banner, you know this. I shouldn’t have to explain my musical ran.. _geez_ , will you stop playing mother?”

He interrupted himself to slide the tray Bruce was piling party debris on just out of Bruce's reach.

"Ever noticed, it’s us two lately? Keeping the place in order?" Bruce reached around him, pulling the tray back across the end table with two fingers, dropping a couple of grubby hors d’oeuvres plates on it. “The party’s over, the others crash – God only knows who with whom – and we’re left to make it all go away before they roll back out here bleary eyed, yawning and wanting coffee and eggs. Almost like we _are_ their parents...."

“Yeah,” Tony pushed the tray away again. “I've noticed. Sounds like you're bitching about it. Thought you kind of liked it.”

Bruce _had_ liked it. Had told himself it only turned into a habit because he had insomnia a lot and Tony was an up-all-night kind of guy.

They both seemed to enjoy sitting around after a big, showy party - room quiet, him kicked back and Tony smoking a cigar or pouring a last drink. Talking shop – as in whatever they’d heard from the tech and science worlds that week. Stuff the rest of their friends would tease them endlessly for geeking out over if they pondered it aloud over breakfast the next morning.

“I have...” Bruce said as Tony stepped in a step, eating all but about a foot of the distance between them up. “I have enjoyed it.”

And if their conversations sometimes went until dawn, the two of them closer to each other than when they'd first sat, looser, sprawled out and voices low, getting sleepy against their wills? If Tony occasionally looked like he might be thinking about reaching in and ...

Odds are it was all in his head.  Highly unlikely to be anything but.  In his head.

“Sit,” Tony interrupted the thought, a hand on his chest, pushing, and Bruce sat.  “Stay.”

“Are you practicing?” Bruce smiled up at him but couldn’t hold his gaze, looking away. A tingle grew over his shoulder and ran up the back of his neck.  “Thinking of getting a pet?”

“I know what _you're_ thinking. You’re thinking of leaving,” Tony said and the tingle turned into a jolt.

“How the hell did you….”

“We won a big one. We’re all settled in here at the ranch nice and cozy,” Tony stepped forward again, one leg going around the outside of Bruce’s knee, giving it a nudge. “So of course…you took an entire, what, _month_ to enjoy it? And now you’re thinking everything's about to go to hell. Or that you’re extraneous. You’re worried ... you might be a detriment. Even hurt us, sooner or later…”

“You got all that from.....my face? Random looks at a party?” Bruce heard his own voice fade off as Tony’s other leg went around the outside of his other knee.

“Yup. Open book, buddy; that's what you are. To me, at least. That’s what I see on you right now, too: Mopey. Yearny for the road, mopey about being on it alone. Wondering why it always needs to be like that, you alone and lonely.”

“You're reading too much into it. And even if it's true... if that’s what I’ve been thinking…. no one will ever be the worse for it. If I go away."

Except for me, Bruce thought.

“Don’t. Go.” Tony slid his feet together, pinning Bruce’s legs lightly. “Stay.”

“Why?” he asked, and it came out a whisper.

Tony got that ‘do I have to do everything’ look, the one with only the barest hint of an eye roll, and leaned in - hands going to either side of him on the sectional and…

_Put your dreams away for another day, and I will take their place in your heart…._

The music was gentle and dreamlike, but Tony’s kiss was strong, muscular; very _tongue and teeth_ and barely this side of too rough. Bruce opened up to it, couldn’t _not_ open up to it. Had to give what was being demanded.

He felt each sweet, warm, sliding stroke pushing desire through him, jumped when Tony punctuated it with a lip bite, snaking a hand firmly behind his head, reeling his startled self in so he could tongue and tease Bruce that extra bit deeper.

_Let your kiss confess this is happiness…._

“Wait,” He pulled away just enough to get the word out against Tony’s lips, breathing quick and shallow, licking his stinging mouth.  Tony stayed put, hands going back to the sofa, still hovering right over him. “Shit…..damn. _Fuck_.”

“I know,” Tony nodded, eyes dark. “Inconvenient as all hell, aren’t they? Feelings? Passions? Need. Seriously, who came up with _need_ as a biological imperative and how can we go back in time and veto that crap?”

"Can't," Bruce muttered, reaching, letting his mouth graze Tony's cheek. He tasted sweet, rough, warm skin and stubble. Expensive cologne. Exactly like he'd imagined, only better. "Obviously, we can't."

"Exactly," Tony climbed on board the sofa, knees finding the back of it, settling lap-to-lap and giving a first push against him that made Bruce push back reflexively. Made him huff out a deep, fast sound full of 'oh, no....'  "Can't fight it, might as well give in gracefully...."

Then fingers were in Bruce's hair and he was being arranged just _so_ and...

The next kiss was just as deep but not as rough and dominating, less about 'give in' and more about 'gimme...'

There was more breathing room to kiss back, their bodies pressing, rocking softly, finding a rhythm. Bruce's hands were tugging at Tony's shirt before his brain realized it - fingers working the tiny buttons until it was loose enough to get hands under it, palms running over back and chest, tracing skin, gripping hard on rippling muscles.

"Feels so good," Bruce got it out between kisses. "Knew you would...feel so good…."

"Back at you..."

Tony sounded less shook up than he felt, was _watching_ him for cripe's sake, watching him get wound up and out of breath. Somewhere in it all he'd gotten their belts open along with Bruce's fly, too. He was tracing fingertips over Bruce's at-attention cock through his briefs in time with their sliding tongues in a way that suggested he couldn't wait to get his mouth on _it_ , too.

"Bed," Bruce pulled back to say it. "Now. Yours or mine, don't care."

"Yes, bed," Tony was up and offering a hand. "Bed good. Naked good. We go get naked, now...."

"Fuck you, smart ass...."

"Another night," Tony gave him a push, buttoned up and then followed him. "Hands and fingers tonight. Mouths and hands and fingers. Gonna have a hot, wet, filthy wrestling match..."

It took entire minutes to get down the hall with the pauses to grab and kiss, Tony grinding him against the wall more than once.

"The living room...." he remembered, somehow, between rough fondles, the state they'd left it in and damn....he _was_ turning into 'mother,' maybe.

"Forget it," Tony propelled him down the hall again. "We have people for that. And tech. Hell, our tech has people for that...."

*-*

"Do you actually really like Sinatra?"

"Eh," Tony didn't move, head heavy on his shoulder, hands skimming along his body as Bruce lay on his back. "He serves a purpose. He got you in my bed. He got you to think about staying."

"That’s not what got me in your bed..."

"It didn't hurt, though, did it? And you are staying? Yes?"

"Yes," Bruce said after a very long pause.

"Jarvis," Tony changed his voice inflection. "One more song. Then some white noise on low until ten a.m., capiche?"

"Capiche, sir. Which track, please?"

"'Songs for Young Lovers,' side one track two."

"He’s only just 'eh,' huh?" Bruce turned so they were facing, so he could get arms around him and hands on him, too. "But you know which of his songs is found where?"

"I think you should put a finer point on that," Tony grumbled, giving him an ass slap in case he missed the 'irked' in his voice. "Shut up and listen."

_We may never, never meet again on that bumpy road to love. Still I'll always, always keep the memory of...  The way you hold your knife… The way we danced until three... The way you've changed my life.  No, no - they can't take that away from me._


End file.
